Costanzo also dazzles in solos that showcase his rich yet delicate voice, which sparkles and swoops like intricately painted blown glass. Before performing Liszt’s arresting art song “Uber Allen Gipfeln est Ruh”, Costanzo explains that it is about despair, from the poem that Goethe carved himself into stone as he died alone.
If we talk about the show, then it does not seem from the design. The organizing principle of non sequiturs (“We’ve sung about flowers and water, now how about leaves?”) is fascinating to a point, though ultimately comes at the cost of reassurance and speed.
Bond, a seasoned stage persona, is at ease at taking off the cuff and cutting out the crowd inside – but glancing hand-in-hand over a nine-piece orchestra, seems far away. The element of Costanzo is the articulate story; However, he is less comfortable as a co-host, even though he is clearly game.
Their self-evident rivalry (an avant-garde legend and an opera star walk into a bar…) gives the audience a guarded removal, while the songs yearn for connection. This is a contrast clearly presented in the fabric by Jonathan Anderson’s first dress, a velvet-soft, floor-length gown that flares out at steep angles, such as front-facing busts whose bell curves are replaced by blunt machete. has given.
Bond and Costanzo are exceptional performers, although it isn’t until the night is almost over that they allow us to see them as vulnerable people as well. “Only an octave apart” was meant to be a live show, then an album; The pandemic forced them to do the reverse. In the worst of last year, he says he threw himself into making this strange and confusing record.
Now on stage, they seem electrified, their nerves raw and frayed, again dazed in unity—in other words, farther than the rest of us dare them to do.
except by an octave
Ann’s Warehouse, Brooklyn until October 3rd; 718-254-8779, stannswarehouse.org. Running time: 90 minutes.